Brad Thor - The First Commandment

“It doesn’t matter who you started with. We’ve been looking for a connection between the five released from Gitmo and I don’t think there is one. I think this has been about Philippe from the beginning, and lumping him in with four others was a smoke screen.”

Harvath was with him that far. “Okay, so let’s say the other four don’t matter for our immediate purposes. We still know nothing about who’s behind Roussard.”

“Not yet at least.”

“I don’t follow you.”

The Troll looked at Harvath and smiled. “The one thing we can agree on is that someone is helping Philippe. Whoever that person-”

“Or organization,” added Harvath.

“Or organization is, they’ve obviously got it out for you and they sent Philippe to stop me from helping you.”

“Agreed.”

“Then let’s break this down into the smallest, most logical bits of data we can,” replied the Troll. He was the puzzle master and completely in his element now. “Most likely, Philippe had neither the contacts nor the resources to mount that attack on me. Someone had to play matchmaker and paymaster for him.”

“And he used Arabic-speaking talent,” added Harvath.

“Which narrows down the pool of operators in South America considerably.”

“Unless they were shipped here specifically for this job.”

The Troll nodded. “It’s possible. But a lot went into this. Someone had to secure the weapons, the helicopter, and a willing pilot. Most likely surveillance was conducted. Even if the muscle came from outside, someone had to help them locally, and it had to be someone Philippe’s people had a relationship with and could trust.”

Harvath watched him as he listened.

“There’s one other thing,” said the Troll. “The most important thing of all.”

“What’s that?”

“The money,” he replied. “This would have been pretty expensive. They couldn’t have just walked into the country carrying that kind of cash. The Brazilians are very serious about money laundering and illicit activities. This would have required-”

“Banks,” interrupted Harvath.

The Troll nodded again.

“Do you think there’s a way to track backward via the money flow?”

Pressing his fingers into a steeple, the Troll thought about it. “If we knew what group or individual Philippe used locally to facilitate everything here, I think I could.”

“What would you need?” said Harvath, careful not to let his enthusiasm show in his voice.

“Two things. First, it takes money to find money. I’d need cash and a lot of it. You’d have to unfreeze a substantial sum. I’m going to have to go to market to get the facilitator’s name and background info. To get that information quickly we’re going to have to pay a premium. Antennae will go up among the brokers we’re going to approach. They’re going to smell blood in the water and will wonder if they can sell the information someplace else for more. We have to be able to offer so much right off the bat that they’ll be afraid to jerk us around and shop the intel.”

“What’s the second thing?” asked Harvath.

“Once we’re on the trail we’re going to have to move fast. I’m going to need a lot more computing power than I have now.”

“How much more?”

The Troll looked at him and replied, “Do you have any friends at the NSA or CIA who owe you a favor?”

Harvath had friends at both the NSA and the CIA. In fact, he’d even recently taken a steam bath with the CIA’s director at his country club. But something told him that reaching out to anyone for help at either agency at this point would only make his problems worse.

By having the Troll define his computing needs a little bit better, Harvath realized the NSA and CIA weren’t the only government agencies with the capacity that would satisfy him. There were others, one of them being the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency, or NGA.

Formerly known as the National Imagery and Mapping Agency, the NGA was a major intelligence and combat support subsidiary of the Department of Defense. They also had serious computer power at their disposal and just happened to be the current employers of a friend of Harvath’s named Kevin McCauliff.

McCauliff and Harvath were members of an informal group of federal employees who trained together every year for the annual Washington, D. C., Marine Corps Marathon.

McCauliff had been instrumental in helping Harvath during the Fourth of July terrorist attacks on Manhattan and had received a special commendation from the president himself. It was something he was very proud of. Though he’d broken many internal NGA rules and more than a few laws in the process, he would have done it all again in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

Since McCauliff had helped him with sensitive assignments in the past, Harvath hoped he’d be able to count on him again.

It took the Troll two days and twice as much money as he’d anticipated to get the information he was looking for. But in the end, it was worth it. Brazil was a relatively small country, and he not only discovered who had assisted Roussard locally, but he also assembled a loose idea of how they washed and had moved their money.

At that point it was Harvath’s turn, and he decided to call Kevin.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” asked McCauliff when Harvath got him on the phone. “No way.”

“Kevin, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important,” said Harvath.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Losing my job for helping you is one thing, losing my life when I’m found guilty of treason is something completely different. Sorry, but we are done with this conversation.”

Harvath tried to calm him down. “Kevin, come on.”

“No, you come on,” he replied. “You’re asking me to turn over control of DOD computers to a figure renowned for stealing intelligence from government organizations.”

“So firewall off any sensitive areas.”

“Am I talking to myself here? These are D-O-D computers. All their areas are sensitive. It’s one thing to ask me to pull imagery, Scot, but it’s another thing entirely to ask me to open up the door and give you an all-access pass…”

“I’m not asking you for an all-access pass. I just need enough capacity to-”

“To launch a denial-of-service attack from U. S. government computers on several banking networks so you can more effectively hack your way inside.”

That was the crux of the request right there, and Harvath couldn’t blame McCauliff for his reluctance. Everything he’d asked the NGA operative to do for him in the past paled in comparison to this. McCauliff was going to need a bigger reason than just their friendship to put his career and possibly more on the line.

Harvath decided to fill him in on what had happened.

When he was finished, there was silence from the other end of the line. McCauliff had no idea Harvath had been through so much since the New York City attacks. “If the banks found out where the attacks came from, the fallout for the U. S. would be beyond radioactive,” he said.

Harvath had been expecting this answer, and the Troll had made extensive notes for him on what he wanted to do. “What if there was a way this could be done without a trail leading back to the U. S.?” asked Harvath.

“What do you have in mind?”

Harvath explained their plan as McCauliff listened.

“On the surface,” the NGA operative replied, “it makes sense. It’s probably even doable that way, but there’s still one wild card that kills the deal.”

“The Troll,” said Harvath despondently.

“Exactly,” replied McCauliff. “I’m not saying you would ever intentionally do your country harm, but this could be the mother of all Trojan Horses and I am not going to be the dumb son of a bitch remembered for having swung open the gates so it could be wheeled inside.”